I just can’t figure out why. Why would he do this? Have they been working together this whole time or did she somehow convince him to help her somewhere along the way? None of this makes sense. This doesn’t seem like Nate, not the Nate I know. He isn’t this calculated or manipulative. I can tell when he’s lying to me because he rarely ever lies. Then again, how well do we ever know one another? Do we ever know our partners as well as we think we do? Can we? I don’t know. I feel so disoriented, so confused, a million thoughts crowding my frontal lobe at once.

I run my fingers through my hair. “Okay,” I whisper. “Okay, okay, okay...”

There’s no other way, I keep thinking. No other way.

My phone starts to vibrate in my hand, and I jump. I push out a steadying breath and flip it over.

Nate. Of course it’s Nate. Now he calls me back. How convenient.

I lift up my phone, my hand trembling, and answer. I don’t wait for him to speak. Anger climbs up my throat and I can’t stop it. “I get it now.”

There’s a long pause from his end. “Get what?” His voice is low. Calm. Even.

“You sent the emails. God, I’m so stupid. All this time, you were the one helping her out. You sent those emails from my account, didn’t you?”

“Whoa. B, calm down.”

“Didn’t you?”

“What are you talk—”

“I’ve been trying to make sense of all this. I couldn’t figure out how she got the cyanide in our closet. But she didn’t. You did.”

“What?”

“Don’t play me like I’m stupid, Nate.” My hand is shaking so much I can barely keep a grip on my phone. “You wanted her that night at the ball. I knew it. I saw it. That’s why you didn’t tell me that you two were together in high school. You still have feelings for her. Going to that stupid party was never about getting me that job. You just wanted to see her again. Admit it.”

I know he won’t. I know he won’t admit that he’s still got feelings for her. I keep going. I can’t stop. My words come out like vomit, a steady, uncontrollable stream. “And now you’re with her. What—was this all part of your plan? To frame me and get me out of your life so you wouldn’t have to deal with me? So you could be with her? This was all her plan, and you went along with it, didn’t you?”

“Brandi, slow down. Just let me—”

“When did she convince you to help her frame me for murder? Before or after you fucked—”